


Everything

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-26
Updated: 2006-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Thoughts in the moment before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are the property of the CW, the writer, the actors, and whatever corporate etities have rights over them. I am none of those.  


* * *

Title: Everything

If he lowered his head, it would mean nothing. If he lifted it, it would mean everything.  
  
Nothing had started it. Another dingy motel room, a fresh set of wounds to be dressed. The hands on his shoulder were deft and cool, the touch of a forehead against his an old ritual of comfort. But something sparked when one hand drew him closer, something electric charged the air as it had never before. If he broke the circuit, nothing would change. If he completed it, everything would.   
  
The face above him—an older mirror of his own—had grown more careworn in the space of an hour. This was how they aged now, not with the passing of weeks and months, but in the minutes of stanching a gush of blood, the seconds of deflecting a blade, the single skipped heartbeat when one saw the other fall. Age was nothing to them. Time was everything, and they had lost a little more.  
  
The hand was unmoving and patient. The moment was inevitable, but the choice his alone. What could it change, in the end? After all the resentment and the bitterness, the anger and the hatred, the steadfast trust and the unwavering love, what could the touch of lips or joining of bodies mean? Nothing. Everything.  
  
Beyond this room, it was wrong, shocking, sinful. Once he thought the same, but no more. Too deep in the shadows and both long since dead, they were as insubstantial to the world as the spirits they hunted: solid only as a weight in a hospital bed, named only as an alias on a booking sheet. Their greatest hope was that they would die together, their greatest fear that one would be left behind.  
  
What were they to the world? Nothing.  
  
What were they to each other? Everything.  
  
He raised his lips to his brother’s. 

 


End file.
